June 22nd, Afternoon Watch: Inferno

It was hot and unbearably so. Russell had discarded both his tailcoat and waistcoat, hanging the pair on a chair in the sickbay. As the few patients present were sleeping away the heated day, the surgeon made his way to the upper deck where he could finally feel the gentle breeze. His hair appeared curlier and wilder, the texture more brittle, and his face and clothing were drenched with sweat. He felt embarrassed about his appearance but given the temperatures, there was little he could do about it beside pull his leather notebook from underneath his arm before settling himself against the side of the ship to fan his face.

He'd been looking for le docteur, but all he found were le docteur's clothes. Having to do a double take to ascertain fully that le docteur had not suddenly turned into a chair. He wasn't really the sort he'd anticipate stripping, especially in front of patients. Perhaps some nasty rat had stolen them. Perhaps Gallien was ailing about in his smallclothes just this instant.

All the more motivation to find the poor thing.

He pulled loose the stock at his neck, it was sweltering. The ship bucked around a little, or perhaps he was just losing balance from the heat. Looking in every crevice he could find until it was certain that he must be up top.

"Monsieur! Er..." He almost didn't spot him right away, he could have been lost among common deckhands.

"I search for your person...below..." Wiping the sweat off his brow and taking extra care not to trip as he went over to him.

"But there is wind up here. Sea breezes. They are good, oui?"

“Mm,” Russell nodded, while squinting his eyes to see the surgeon’s mate approach him, “what little we have.” One had drew upwards over his face to shield it from the sunlight as the other continued to fan his face, he did not offer René a smile rather the boy was welcomed with a grimace. It wasn’t that his company was not welcomed but in such weather, he would have rather been left alone and although, he had considered sleeping just as his patients were, he knew that he would never fall asleep as comfortably.

“Did you need something from me?” He asked, feeling quite uncomfortable with the amounts of sweat that pulled his clothing against his skin and even more so, now that some of the sailors passed them without their shirts; although, he couldn’t help but eye one of them as he spoke.

René followed his gaze, but couldn't quite pinpoint anything fathomable save a few half naked men. That can't hold much interest to you, can it Gallien?

Or maybe it can...

"Non, je m'excuse...if you wish to be alone, m'sieur I will go away." Please don't though, docteur. That stupid boy might find me. The one who was poking around the sick bay the other day. Cocky prick. He didn't even remember his name.

Russell’s eyes lingered momentarily before realising that the boy was addressing him once again, to which he cleared his throat and forced a ‘no’, sounding almost desperate. He felt that if René left, he would be alone without a distraction with all these shirtless men, some of whom caused him to feel even more uncomfortable than he already was with the heat. “I was thinking about looking over notes,” he admitted, “but found it was almost just as hot above as it was below.” Even with the pathetic breeze, he thought. He heard water lapping at the side of the ship as he fanned his face and after a few moments of thought, he asked without explanation, “do you think it would be silly if the ship’s doctor just clambered overboard?”

His eyes became wide as saucer plates, and he folded his arms. "You abandon the ship, docteur?" Perhaps it really was all just too much for him. Was it really time to end it all? "I think you should keep being alive."

Russell stared at René for a few short moments, confused by the boy’s answer before he realised that he had just asked a question which only he would have understood. He then laughed, momentarily forgetting how uncomfortable he was. “My dear boy, I meant swimming.”

Briefly touching a hand to his heart. Merde.

"Oh. Oh. Hah. Hah-yes of course...I am very much a fool, doctor...you should swim of course..." He flushed rather hard, and leaned against the side of the ship. His capillaries would surely explode with the addition of the beats of the sun. He eyed the water below and inhaled deeply. It was good. Good that he wasn't planning on dying. Especially right in front of him. That would be rude. Exciting to watch, though, if it had been anyone else. He rather liked the thought of Gallien being not dead, in particular.

"It would be relieving, yes? I could help lower a boat for you..."

“Yes… swim,” he replied distantly. Russell concentrated on removing his white shirt as carefully as possible without tearing it off impatiently from the heat, revealing a tanned and somewhat skeletal figure of man who had never seen any sort of physical labour, besides trailing calmly along the seaside and endlessly writing at a desk, in his life. He then removed his boots and socks settling them in a haphazardly pile with his shirt, something strikingly different from what he would normally have done.

He let out an exasperated sigh as he settled against the side of the ship; the expression on his very sweaty face was elsewhere. Perhaps, the heat was obstructing his mind. “What about a boat?” He asked as if he had just entered from another realm. He turned round and stared down at the ocean water, his body swayed back and forth momentarily before he fell forwards. There was a loud splash.

"Docteur!!" He nearly fell off the edge himself when he saw him tumble down. The poor bloke must have had heatstroke; clearly gone batty. René had had barely a moment to ogle him without a shirt on. He decided to go lower the boat for him, and went to try and manoeuvre the ropes.

It was the unexpected splash that drew Thom Boyles' attention, just before he swung up onto the mainmast shrouds to dash up to the t'g'llant yard with his lads. All Hands had been piped to make sail, so the weatherdeck was crowded with men, but Boyles' sharp ears caught the noise of disturbed water even over the various sounds of the ship being worked.

"Man ov'rboard!" The Jamaican bawled, having seen the pale flash of skin in the gleaming blue water. His call brought an immediate, if brief, halt to the bustle on the weatherdeck, before somebody bellowed for the quarter-boat to be sent off at once.

Boyles heard and saw none of the renewed rush of activity his cry had prompted. He was just landing awkwardly in the sea himself, having leapt clear of the shrouds. It was a wild, insane reaction. He could barely swim. But it would take several precious minutes for the quarter-boat to be launched and the ship hove-to, and Boyles knew from experience that a man could be well lost by the time those things happened.

"Here, what you doin' with the barge, lad?" Billy demanded, gently pushing the loblolly's hands away. It was that strange Frenchy boy, who no doubt thought he was making himself useful. "No no, don't touch. Captain's barge, this is." And then he heard Boyles' shout. Man overboard? And now Boyles himself was in the water. Damn! If it weren't for that hole in his chest making movement so difficult, Billy would have leapt over the side in an instant.

"Man overboard! Not the barge, the quarterboat. Tide, Spence, gimme a hand!"

Immersed in cool water, Russell felt a rush of relaxation; he remained in his position, moving his legs and arms in order to keep his head above water. He hadn’t yet realised what he had just done in his silly heated daze. One would have thought that a surgeon who had once lived in the tropics would have been able to endure the heat; but for some reason, today was unbearable for him. As he turned to explore the waters by the side of the ship, he heard a splash close-by and he initially thought it was René following after him but the surgeon soon realised as he neared the man that it was one of the sailors instead. It didn’t occur to him why he was in the water.